


Felled By Dice

by jynx



Series: A Loving Heart is the Truest Wisdom [6]
Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Prequel Trilogy
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Contract Killers, Jango is a tiny bit oblivious, M/M, ObiWan is a tiny bit devious, QuiGon is very tired and wants ObiWan to be more like Anakin
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-27
Updated: 2018-08-27
Packaged: 2019-07-03 11:57:46
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,601
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15818418
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jynx/pseuds/jynx
Summary: The ginger was pretty cute, Jango had to give him that, but he couldn't dance worth a damn.





	Felled By Dice

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Cuzosu](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cuzosu/gifts), [sanerontheinside](https://archiveofourown.org/users/sanerontheinside/gifts), [ShaeTiann](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ShaeTiann/gifts).



> Pfft, I'm back to this fun and crazy AU posting thing. Because bad moods tend to mean I fluff and mindlessly write stuff! :D Anyway, I might actually come back to this because it was fun. *gigglefit* (Also, because like, I need to bring NORMAL Anakin into this! which will be so very entertaining)
> 
> Prompt:  
> "I was sent to kill you but I got hurt and now you’re naively nursing me back to health and calling me cute pet names I cannot do this" AU

Jango never really questioned why the contract for some barely thirty accountant crossed his metaphorical desk--people pissed other people off all the time and accountants were probably right below lawyers in the most hated category--but he did feel a bit of twinge of regret when he saw the headshot of the mark. Kind of cute, if you liked gingers. Floppy hair, neatly trimmed beard, a mole under the right eye, a smirk and a quirked eyebrow--essentially, sassy. 

Too bad he had to die. 

Jango had his routine, when it came to marks, and this time it was no different. He found where "Ben Sky" lived and set up surveillance. There was a handy apartment in the building across the street no one was occupying that had perfect line of sight. The idiot mark had some swanky apartment up on the fifth floor with wide floor-to-ceiling windows that showed the entirety of the kitchen and living room, and another set of windows that showed a decent portion of the bedroom. The bedroom always had the curtains drawn but the living room and kitchen were fair game. He set up long-range cameras and microphones and sat back to watch. 

Watching was almost Jango's favorite part. Especially when Ben, during dinner prep one night, had "Hollaback Girl" going loud enough for Jango to pick up and was dancing around the kitchen and living room as he cooked. Badly, very badly, danced. He was, at least, graceful enough to not land on his ass as he shook it and twirled about, laughing to himself as he darted back into the kitchen as the timer went off. 

Jango smirked and saved the clip to his laptop. No reason to not enjoy a cute idiot, even if he was about to be a dead, cute idiot. 

The ginger had a pretty decent set schedule, which was very useful for Jango. Out for a morning run at 4am, back at 4:30am and into the shower and around his bedroom to prepare for work, out the door by 5:15 or 5:30 if he was running late, usually home by 7 or 7:30pm. No car that Jango had been able to find, which had left public transit. The one time Jango had tried to tail him, the accountant had lost him in the sea of bodies in almost record time. It would have been impressive if it wasn't annoying; no one had ever shaken Jango as a tail before. The accountant had dinner as soon as he came home and either had a drink with it or afterwards as he had Netflix going. 

If it was a bad night, and sometimes the ginger wasn't home until 9pm, the other skipped dinner and just grabbed a bottle of vodka from the freezer and sat on the couch, watching mindless children's cartoons as he drank. Jango wondered, the two times he saw this happening, what an accountant saw that was so bad. 

_Have you killed him yet?_ popped up on his phone. 

Jango rolled his eyes. Someone was getting antsy. He ignored the message as he watched the accountant drink from the vodka bottle. Tomorrow morning, before the ginger left for his run, Jango would act. He'd already wasted a month on this assignment and was missing out on money. The Ben Sky contract was going to pay quite well--curiously well--but he still needed to move on. 

The next morning he slipped across the street and up to Ben Sky's apartment, carefully and quietly jimmying the door open. Only, it didn't open. Jango frowned but examined the door. Was there more than one lock and he just didn't see it? People were investing in all this bullshit home security now and he could crack almost all of it, but it took time. He took a step back and studied the door. 

There was the a shiny spot on the right corner of the door frame, like a palm constantly rubbing against it. Jango raised an eyebrow and reached up, feeling around until he found a round disc of metal. A pole? What the ever living fuck? Jango tugged it up and up and then tried the door--this time it opened. 

He tried to ease the door open quietly but the door squeaked like a motherfucker that desperately needed an entire bottle of WD-40 and he cringed. All this money and the damned ginger didn't know how to keep his apartment functioning? Jango was barely home but he still managed his upkeep. It seemed, though, that Ben Sky didn't hear a thing because it seemed like Ben Sky was trying--and failing--to be quiet as he chased an orgasm in the bedroom. 

Jango snorted and pulled out his pistol and screwed on the silencer. Well, at least the ginger would go out happy. He did not watch where he was stepping--why should he? Everything he saw showed a pristine home--and immediately tripped on a bunch of kids toys strewn in the entryway. Swearing under his breath, he spun, trying to keep his balance, only to be hampered by the small hallway, and plowed into one of the walls, knocking a framed picture off the wall and having it crash to the floor and the glass shatter. Shit. He grabbed onto one of the edges of the walls for support, but his hand slid straight down it and he fell to the floor--onto _dice_. 

Sharp, pointy, vile dice. 

He cried out, the gun going flying from his hand, as moments later Ben Sky came flying out of his bedroom in a bathrobe that barely covered him. 

"Oh, my--are you okay?" the ginger asked, breathless as he picked his way over to Jango and knelt down by him. 

"Ow," Jango groaned. 

"Yeah, I bet," Ben Sky said, reaching out and touching Jango's hair. "D4 are nasty dice to fall on, let alone step on. Sorry, I guess I dropped my dice bag last night and just never got around to picking it all up." 

Jango rolled over and--oh, that was glass. Motherfucking fuck. 

"Oh, you poor thing," the ginger cooed, helping Jango to his feet. "Let's get you into the kitchen. I have a first aid kit in there." 

Jango grimaced, eyes on his gun, as they walked by--but the ginger apparently wasn't watching where he was going and kicked it under the couch! What the actual fuck!? "I'll be fine," Jango assured him, deciding that getting out of this situation was probably best. He just needed to find the best way to disengage. 

"But, handsome, it really would be better to let me check you over," Ben said. "I mean, I know you broke into my place and everything but you could be seriously hurt! I simply couldn't live with myself if you were injured. Honestly, Honey Pie, just let me take a little look and then you can leave." 

Jango stared at him, stunned, as the man wrangled him onto a barstool and fetched the first aid kit. Honey Pie? Handsome? What was going on? 

"Okay, Charmer, I'm going to need you to take your shirt off," Ben said with a smile. "It sounded like you went down pretty hard and, well. I mean, physically, of course." He glanced at Jango from under his lashes. "I'd like to make sure you didn't cut yourself on the glass or that the dice didn't actually do any damage." 

Jango tried not to grin, he really did, but it was hard not to. In the month, or so, that he'd been watching the ginger the man hadn't had anyone over and he hadn't _heard_ the other getting off at all. Not until this morning. The robe he was wearing was one of those flimsy Kimono-style robes that was so popular with people, but Jango was pretty sure this one was meant for a female and not a male, and it did not fit the ginger's shoulder width. It was gaping open and everything was on display. 

"Oh, my shirt? Are you sure that's all?" Jango asked, reaching out to touch the other's chest. 

The ginger licked his lips. "Well, I mean, you did land on your side and then roll. Your pants should probably come off too, Hotshot." 

Jango gave up. Sassy and awful with the nicknames, he could find other uses for that mouth, but there really was no reason to kill him. He'd call off the contract after he fucked the man into the nearest flat surface. If he was honest, he knew he wasn't going to kill the ginger after those awful dance moves. He pulled off his t-shirt and pulled the ginger into a kiss, amused as the other climbed into his lap and groaned, hands immediately going into his hair. Well, all right then. He grabbed the other's ass, a nice handful on both sides that would definitely do, and ground against him. 

"Oh, hello there," Ben breathed happily. 

"You want me to fuck you right here, ginger?" he asked. "Against your counter?" 

The other's blue eyes were dark with lust and need as he pressed closer. "Lube is kind of a necessity, Sweetheart." 

"Enough with the pet names," Jango said, leaning in and sucking a hickey onto the other's neck as he wrapped a hand around the other's cock. He heard the other whine and bit down roughly, working him messily, wanting him on the edge and desperate before he pushed him down into his sheets and fucked him stupid. 

That's when the door was kicked open and men in black tac gear poured in, shouting, and the ginger pulled back, cursing. 

Jango stared at him, hands slowly going up, trying not to feel betrayed. 

Accountant his fucking ass. 

= 

"Are the cuffs really necessary?" his ginger asked as the door opened. He was, sadly, dressed in jeans, a light blue henley, and converse sneakers. He looked good, he just looked better nearly naked and in Jango's lap. 

"Yes," one of the assholes in suits said. He was an older man with a broken nose and a long braid of silver-and-brown hair and an air of "don't fuck with me and I won't have you killed". 

A sigh and his ginger took the empty chair next to him since there were two suits across from him. "Qui--" 

"Don't start with me, Obi-Wan," lead asshole said. 

"Seriously, Kenobi," second suited asshole said. This one was a guy with dreads and facial tattoos in yellow. "Didn't I say keep your ass _literally_ covered? No one wants to see that shit." 

"Lies," his ginger said breezily. "You love seeing my ass, Quin. Also, I would like to point out that my ass was covered, it was the rest of me that wasn't." 

"Somehow that's almost wor--" 

"Boys," lead asshole said, voice fond. "Son, you are here as a courtesy. Please remember that." 

"I'm here because I'm the one who found out someone wanted to kill me in the first place," his ginger muttered. He glanced at Jango and shrugged. "We figured out who hired you before you set up in the apartment but we decided to let things play out." 

"Oh, really?" Jango asked, scowling. "And who hired me?" 

His ginger glanced at lead asshole, who gestured for him to continue. "Yoda Threefinger and his organization of Sith. They've been pissed at us, at Qui-Gon, since we broke away almost twenty years ago now." 

Jango kept his face blank as he swore internally. Great. "I'm an independent contractor." 

"We know," his ginger said. 

"We keep close tabs on all of the Sith," suited asshole number two said. "They wouldn't dare make a move on us, especially not Obi-Wan, so obviously without a backup plan." 

Jango shifted, his cuffs clanking slightly as he did so, wondering exactly what that meant. 'Especially not Obi-Wan'? 

"Qui-Gon is my adoptive father," his ginger murmured quietly. "Dooku and Yoda are also family, in a sense." 

Double fuck. He had gotten involved in a family squabble. 

"If you put as much work into investigating your employers as you do your marks then you would be quite formidable," suited asshole number one said, tapping a file folder in front of him. "You actually managed to get through a lot of layers of Obi-Wan's false identity and got his routine down fast. Obi-Wan, you do need to randomize your routine more." 

His ginger scowled, "Fuck you too, Qui. You forced me into a routine with this assignment. So I go on a run, which I do rotate locations and I don't wear one of those ridiculous fitness trackers which is just screaming for someone to track, find, and kill me, but my nights are mine." 

"You usually spent them at home," Jango said. 

"During this, yes," his ginger shrugged. "Otherwise I go out dancing or to coffee shops or the range, or find people to hookup with. I needed to be in the apartment for this." 

Suited asshole number two grinned. "Slut." 

"You can leave, Vos," suited asshole number one said. The man huffed and stood, and his ginger smirked and stuck his tongue out. "Do you need to leave too, Obi-Wan?" 

"Nope, I'm good," his ginger said, straightening in his chair as the door opened and closed. 

"I did tell you not to become involved with Vos," the older man said with a sigh. 

"Eh, we grew up together, what did you expect?" his ginger asked. 

"Better taste," the man said with an arched brow. 

Jango snorted, unable to help himself, as his ginger huffed and muttered. 

"Now then, since Mr Fett here has become so entangled with us," a pointed look at both Jango and his ginger had the other scooting just the tiniest fraction away from him, "we must figure out what to do." 

"Well, I can lay waste to Yoda's systems and tech," his ginger said brightly. "I've been dying to, Qui, you know that. Please, _please_ , let me take them out?" 

"Not an accountant," Jango said. 

"Tech," his ginger said with a vicious grin. "I develop most of the shit our agents go out with." 

Jango tried not to be impressed. 

The older man regarded them both for a moment before leaning over and unlocking Jango's cuffs. "I think what will happen is that you will take Mr Fett here out for a cup of coffee, or lunch, and explain to him what we do." His ginger perked up, all sunny smiles and bright eyes, dangerously expressive. "Then, depending on how Mr Fett choses, you will either bring him back here or." He shook his head and let a breath out through his nose, a slight whistle to the sigh. "Am I understood?" 

His ginger hooked an arm around Jango's and leaned against him, instantly possessive. What, exactly, had he gotten himself into with this job? "Perfectly, Qui." 

"Sir," Jango said with a slow nod when it became obvious the man was waiting for his answer as well.  


The older man sighed and stood. "Please do not make me regret this, either of you." 

Jango watched him leave and then turned to the ginger attached to his arm. "Wanna just go back to yours?" 

" _That_ is the reward for listening to my spiel about why you should join us, hot stuff," his ginger said. 

"You had me at hello," Jango said, grabbing at his ginger's shirt and pulling him in for a kiss. What the hell did he care who he worked for? He had a great incentive right here. 


End file.
